


Homecoming

by maddmaddworld



Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types, Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins
Genre: F/M, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-03
Updated: 2013-12-03
Packaged: 2018-01-03 09:43:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,002
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1068981
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/maddmaddworld/pseuds/maddmaddworld
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Peeta returns home to Katniss after deployment.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Homecoming

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Streetlightlove](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Streetlightlove/gifts).



> This little bit of fluff is totally Streetlightlove's fault. She reblogged this adorable picture on Tumblr (visual below), and that's where this whole idea came from. Thanks for inadvertently giving me writing inspiration, ma'am!

 

I sneak as quietly as I can into the house, careful not to step on the mangy orange cat that sleeps in the doorway. I close the front door as quietly as possible, being mindful of the squeak of the hinges that I haven’t fixed yet.

 

I’m home now.

 

I can fix it now.

 

I toe off my shoes and slide them into the corner so that she doesn’t trip on them later. She’s clumsy like that. Next, I strip my jacket off and toss it—quietly—onto the couch as I pad through the hard-wood floored living room in my socks. I steal a glance into the kitchen and, realizing she’s not there, continue my search by moving upstairs.

 

I sigh when my feet hit the plush carpet. It’s been a long time since I’ve stood on anything so soft. I climb the stairs slowly, taking in my surroundings. I haven’t stepped foot in this house in sixteen months. It smells like her. It smells like us; our life.

 

I drink in the faint odor of her perfume as I pass the upstairs bathroom. My senses are completely overwhelmed by her, and I haven’t even seen her yet.

 

When I finally reach the bedroom, the sight that greets me is like a dream. She stands with her back facing the door, clad only in a black bra and panties, as she rummages through our closet. Her left leg is crossed over her right, and she leans her palm against the wall and blows out a frustrated breath. She’s probably been staring at her clothes for a few long minutes, wondering what to wear today. Despite the thump in my chest and my body’s overwhelming desire to run to her and take her in my arms, I wait, silently, as she finally pulls out a black flannel shirt— _my_ shirt, I realize—and a pair of faded jeans. She puts the flannel to her face and inhales deeply, letting out a quiet sob on her exhale.

 

I feel my eyes mist up and a lump form in my throat as I watch her, and I can’t keep quiet any longer. “You look amazing in that shirt, you know,” I rasp out, as the tears overwhelm me and I begin to openly sob.

 

She jumps about a foot in the air and lets out a scream as she turns around. Her mouth drops open when she looks at me, and I furiously wipe the tears out of my eyes. “Are you real?” she asks, taking three long strides toward me and grasping my shoulders.

 

“I’m real, Katniss.”

  
“You’re home,” she sobs, wrapping her arms around my neck and jumping up to wrap her legs around my waist. I’m not prepared for the movement, so her momentum knocks us to the ground and I land on top of her, throwing my arms out quickly so I don’t crush her. When I look down at her, fat, round tears are pouring down her cheeks and landing on the carpet, but she’s laughing loudly. I grin back at her, and before I can say anything else, she leans up and kisses my nose. And then my cheeks, my chin, my forehead, my eyelids. Finally, she pulls back and runs her fingers through my hair. “I missed you so, so much, Peeta.”

 

I don’t respond. Instead, I lean forward and capture her lips with mine, letting out a moan. It’s been sixteen months since I kissed her. She responds eagerly, swiping her tongue along my top lip and pushing her way into my mouth when an involuntary giggle escapes me. Her legs are still wrapped around me, so she squeezes tight and grabs my shoulders, breaking our kiss. “Hi,” breathes. Her tears have stopped and she grins up at me.

 

“Hello, wife,” I reply, wiping hastily at my tears again and smiling down at her, before burying my face in her neck and breathing her in. I lean back just enough to place feather-light kisses on her neck and behind her ear, where I know she’s ticklish.

 

She giggles and unwraps her legs so I can lie down beside her on the carpet, but she doesn’t break contact. She snuggles into my shoulder and gazes up at me with big, gray eyes. “How long are you home?” She never knows how long I’ll be away. Some of my missions run two weeks. Others, like this last one, take much, much longer.  

 

I run my hand up and down her bare torso, relishing in the goosebumps the contact creates. “Long enough to fix the squeak on the front door, and finish painting the living room, and build that deck you want,” I respond, smiling when her eyes grow round as saucers.

 

She moves suddenly, rolling on top of me and pinning her arms at my sides. Her hair tickles my face. “How long, Peeta?” she growls, giving me her trademark snarl. I waggle my eyebrows at her.

 

“I’m home for good, baby. I took a new position. I’m going to be working with the new soldiers at Langley. Technically, it’s a desk job, but I just couldn’t do it anymore. I miss you so much, all the time, and we want to start a family, and I want to _be here_ for everything when that happens, and—“

 

She squeals and drops her full weight on top of me, kissing me with reckless abandon while I try to catch my breath. She’s crying again, and I can feel her tears land on my cheeks. I grab her hips and use my high school wrestling moves to flip us so I’m on top of her. I stare down at my wife, who is smiling and sobbing, and I can’t help but wonder if life gets any better than this. As I lean my head down and nip lightly at her breast through her lacy bra, I vow that if it does, I’ll be here from now on to find out. 


End file.
